As black veins crawled across Ragnar's skin and blood poured from his mouth, ears, and eyes, the room froze in horror.
"Vincent!" Merlin's voice cracked with panic. It was the first time anyone had ever heard fear like that from her.
The house doctor burst in, eyes widening at the sight of Ragnar's limp, blood-soaked body.
"Move aside," Vincent ordered, voice steady even as his hands trembled. "I'll handle this."
He knelt, placing a glowing hand above Ragnar's chest. Dark green light spilled out, wrapping around him — Blessings fromtheForestGod, Seventh GradeMagic. Slowly, the bleeding stopped. The veins faded. Ragnar's body stilled, but his eyes stayed shut.
Merlin exhaled, her fear dimming. "So… is he safe now? Sorry, I didn't think my spell would—"
"No." Vincent's tone cut her off. "This wasn't your doing. Something else is tearing him apart."
A heavy silence followed. Magna scratched his head. "I've got nothing." Light shook his head too.
Then Alys stepped forward, eyes narrowing at Ragnar's veins. "I know what this is."
Vincent snapped open a small notebook. "Explain."
"You all said Ragnar used to be weak, right? No mana, no strength."
"Correct,: Merlin replied.
Alys folded her arms. "Then maybe he wasn't weak because he lacked mana… maybe it was the opposite. Most mages carry magic like water in a jar. Ragnar's jar was an ocean — and the ocean had no walls. The mana flooded into his veins, poisoning his own body."
The words hit like a thunderclap. Vincent scribbled furiously. "Of course… I should've seen it."
"Yeah," Alys said quietly. "It happened to me once, but nothing like this. Ragnar's drowning in more power than I ever had."
Merlin frowned. "That explains the veins, but what about the blood?"
Light hesitated, then raised his hand. "When I was a kid, my brother pushed magic past his limit. Every time, he bled just like Ragnar."
Merlin's mind raced, puzzle pieces snapping into place. Too much mana… uncontrollable bleeding… and then— Her eyes widened.
"Portal magic," she whispered. "That has to be it."
Vincent's head shot up. "Portal magic? Ragnar knows it?"
"Yes," Merlin admitted. "Even I was shocked."
Vincent snapped the notebook shut and slid it into his coat. Carefully, he lifted Ragnar into his arms.
"Then this isn't just overflow," he muttered. "This is something far more dangerous. I'll keep him alive… but what happens when he wakes up?"
Ragnar's body twitched, and for a split second a jagged tear of black energy flickered open beneath him. The air warped. Then it snapped shut, leaving only silence.
Everyone stared, breath caught in their throats.
Vincent grimaced. "We're running out of time "
Two Hours Later
Ragnar's mind clawed its way back to awareness, but his body refused him. He couldn't move. Couldn't even feel his limbs. Darkness wrapped around him, yet he could hear faint voices, blurred, as if the world was whispering through water.
He didn't know what they were saying. He only knew the heat boiling inside him and the frost biting at his skin, clashing like a storm in his veins.
"Am I… going to die?"
Then his eyes opened—not to his room, not to his world, but to something else.
An endless ocean stretched beneath a starless sky, black and bottomless. He hovered above it, weightless, neither falling nor floating—just suspended.
To his left, a man emerged. Tall. Muscular. Beautiful in a way that made Ragnar's chest ache. His eyes glowed faintly, carrying the wisdom and weariness of countless lifetimes. His features… they mirrored Ragnar's own, but older, sharper, like staring at the reflection of the warrior he might become.
To his right, a woman appeared. Her long white dreads shimmered like strands of moonlight, cascading down her flowing gown that pulsed like living starlight. She was breathtaking, divine—yet her face… it echoed his younger sister's, older, refined, touched by eternity.
Ragnar tried to speak, but no sound left his mouth. His voice was stripped away.
The man's tone cut through the silence, edged with anger.
"I told you—giving him that magic was too much. Now look at him. His body fractures under its weight."
The woman didn't flinch. Her smile was serene, almost cruel in its calmness.
"You lack patience. He will endure. And in time, he will wield it."
The man's eyes softened as they locked on Ragnar, pity swimming in their ancient depths.
"Forgive me, Dragonic. I didn't realize the pain this power would carve into you."
The woman placed a hand over her chest, her gaze unwavering.
"Pain is the fire that tempers steel. Without it, he would never grow strong. This trial is not a curse—it is a necessity."
Inside, Ragnar's soul screamed the only question he had:
"Who is Dragonic?"
The man glanced at the woman with visible irritation, his jaw tightening.
"I don't care for your philosophies. His path is already drenched in suffering."
The woman's smile never wavered.
"And yet… he is not alone. He has us."
Ragnar's vision blurred, the dark ocean slipping away. He didn't want to leave. He had so many questions burning inside him.
The woman leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Her lips were warm, but they carried a weight that made his heart tremble.
"Do not fear, Dragonic. We will meet again. And when you do, you will be strong enough to speak to us."
The man exhaled heavily, his voice a low rumble.
"At his current pace, he won't reach that point soon… but even so, we will see you again, Dragonic."
The ocean vanished.
Ragnar's eyes shot open. He was back—surrounded by family and friends, their faces lit with relief and fear.
One Hour Earlier
The room was heavy with silence. All that broke it was the quiet sobbing of Ragnar's little sister, clutching her knees in the corner.
Alys finally stood, her voice breaking the tension.
"Hey, mister… I don't think we've met."
She looked at Vincent.
"My apologies," Vincent said with a polite bow. "I am Vincent Von Wryd. A viscount."
Alys smiled faintly.
"So… should I call you Lord Vincent?"
Vincent waved his hand nervously.
"No, no. Vincent is fine."
Light studied him carefully, his eyes narrowing before flicking toward Ragnar.
"So… what's your connection to him? You're too young to be his father. And you clearly aren't related by blood."
Vincent gave a small laugh.
"You're correct. I'm not Ragnar's father. I'm his older brother. But… Ragnar and Lilly aren't my blood. They were adopted."
Magna leaned back, smirking.
"I figured as much. And not because of skin color."
Vincent arched an eyebrow.
"Then how?"
Magna grinned.
"Simple. Ragnar and Lilly look like they were sculpted by gods. You… look like an afterthought."
Vincent froze.
"…Do I really look that plain?"
Merlin burst into laughter.
:He's not wrong."
Light bit his lip, trying to keep a straight face.
"Come on, he doesn't look that bad."
Vincent's face fell, his voice cracking.
"At least… I'm not as dumb as Merlin."
Everyone erupted into laughter—except Merlin.
"You wanna repeat that?" Merlin's tone was sharp.
Vincent instantly paled.
"…I'm sorry."
The laughter softened the tension, filling the room with warmth for the first time since Ragnar collapsed.
Then, Ragnar's body jolted. His eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly, his voice raw and desperate as he screamed:
"WHO ARE YOU TWO?!"
The room froze. Shock carved into every face.